


cast a spell so sweet

by spookyfoot



Series: yuuri week 2017 [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Day 5, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Theme: Eros, Yuuri Week 2017, not actually a honeypot katsuki yuuri, phichit is a bamf, thirst mistaken for espionage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 18:58:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11629836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyfoot/pseuds/spookyfoot
Summary: Phichit gets the Italians first. He's read the dossier on Sara and Michele (probably not their real names) and how Michele refuses to accept a mission without his sister."Looks like Ice Prince has made contact with Eros." Sara mutters to Michele over their supposedly secure ear pieces."Ice Prince? Eros?" Phichit mouths to himself. What the actual fuck?Michele sighs, "figures Interpol would send in a honeypot to distract the Russians."Oh my god. They thinkYuuriis the agent.This might be the first time anyone's mistaken thirst for international espionage.___________Yuuri's just trying to get the d, while Phichit's just trying to save the world. They've both got their priorities.





	cast a spell so sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cafecliche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafecliche/gifts), [counterheist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/counterheist/gifts).



> title from "The Chills" by Peter, Bjorn, and John
> 
> hope this makes your day (well, yesterday now) a little better, cafecliche!
> 
> kix, this is your fault. bless you.
> 
> this is actually beta'd *gasp*

Yuuri's at one of the most elaborate tech parties of the year and he can't _see_ any of it. It's all Phichit's fault, as usual.

The whole sleek, modernist ballroom is rendered in stark black and white—the mandatory dress code included. Phichit had vetoed Yuuri's original outfit. He'd insisted that Yuuri leave his glasses at home and slick his hair back because "I heard Victor Nikiforov is going to be there and your glasses clash"; Mari and Minako, like the sadists they are, sided with Phichit.

He's wearing a pair of contacts with an out of date prescription—which means everything's blurry more than five feet away from his face and he might as well not be wearing them at all. The room is full of figures with indistinct faces, though he spots a bright bright blonde blur near the bar—hair like a beacon. If he was supposed to mingle, it's not going to happen now. He won't even know who he's talking to.

"Can I sit here?"

Correction, he won't know who he's talking to unless you’re Victor Nikiforov and your hazy, two dimensional face has accompanied Yuuri's alarm every day for the past five years. It's patently unfair that Victor's this beautiful even when he's blurry.

"Sure." Yuuri looks at his phone. Even three quarters blind Yuuri can tell there's no new notifications on the screen. He won't even be able to read the list of questions he made in his notes app in case he met Victor. He did not think this through. He’s not sure he’s thinking at all—but one of the start-up founders here must be peddling a program for rebooting the human brain.

Yuuri fights a rising tide of panic. Where's Phichit when you need him?

_______________

Phichit spends the first twenty minutes of the party networking for his fake job in his fake life before he comes face to face with a one hundred percent real Victor Nikiforov.

Excellent.

"Phichit Chulanont."

"Victor Nikiforov. It's nice to meet you."

Phichit beams. Easy. "Likewise! My friend and I are huge fans of your podcast." Phichit leans in as though he's divulging a state secret. Phichit knows state secrets. This is _not_ a state secret. "Actually, you inspired him to start podcasting."

Victor smiles, it's brittle, and doesn't quite reach his eyes. Like he's pasted it on with glue that's lost its tack. Phichit categorizes Victor’s facial expressions like he's running an algorithm.

"Oh, and who's your friend?" Victor's already looking past him toward the bar where an actual robot is assembling fluorescent cocktails with an experimental dye. They’re completely complimentary, served with a side of “would you be interested in funding my start up?”

But Victor’s inattention is a momentary lapse. Phichit can forgive him—he's also on his way to more important things. "Yuuri Katuski, from _Error_ _404, Not Found._ ”

"Really?" Suddenly Phichit's got Victor's full attention. "I _love_ that show! He’s here?” This time the smile reaches Victor's eyes.

"Just by the model plane, in the Alpha Romeo. You should go talk to him, he's hard to miss."

"Oh, well, I should—"

"It was nice to meet you Victor, I'm sure you'll have a great time talking to Yuuri." Phichit puts on his best selfie smile until Victors at least  twenty paces away.

That ought to keep Yuuri busy for the rest of the evening. When Victor’s in the room Yuuri knows nothing—he’s like Jon Snow but gay. Yuuri’ll be too busy getting dicked down to notice Phichit’s saving the world.

Phichit eyes the room. Silicon Valley has a drama streak as wide as Victor Nikiforov’s forehead—Tumblr rented thirty vintage cars for the evening to serve as alternative seating. The half scale model plane hanging from the ceiling is a nice touch too.

Christophe Giacometti (definitely not his real name), professional honeypot (and the entire international spy community knows it), is lingering by the bar. Another time, Phichit might stop to say hello, see what kind of mischief he could get up to. Phichit loves mischief. But tonight, he sees his opening, and speeds to the service entrance.  Once he’s there, he can check in with Ciao Ciao. They've got Interpol surveillance set up throughout the room—Phichit knows without a doubt that the hand off is tonight and their femtocell should hack into the frequencies in the area so they pick up any relevant chatter.

"Arthur, what's your status?" Ciao Ciao's punctual as ever. If they intercept the encryption software in time, Phichit should have time to get a selfie with Queen Carly Rae. That would take a "successful evening" into a whole other stratosphere.

Phichit slides a slim tablet prototype from a specially tailored pocket inside of his suit jacket. "Play that funky music, white boy." Phichit grimaces, "did you really have to make that the signal?"

"You made us use 'I wanna ride your disco stick' last time. It was my turn." The sound quality is crystal clear—Phichit can't even pretend he didn't hear him.

"Fine." He unlocks the tablet screen, punches in the access code, and hooks his earpiece up to the femtocell.

_______________

"You have a poodle? _I_ have a poodle!" Victor’s leaning in, hand wrapped around Yuuri's forearm. There's barely any space between them in the Alpha Romeo. Yuuri would pinch himself but Victor's hand is in the way.

Yuuri peers up at Victor from under his eyelashes. "His name is Vicchan," he slides his phone out of his pocket to show Victor the lock screen. Thank god he'd changed it last week.

(It had been a picture of Victor. He'd had eight different people ask him if his lock screen was his boyfriend.)

"He's very cute." Victor's not even looking at Yuuri's phone. Oh god, it's still a picture of Victor. Yuuri suspects Phichit. He drains the rest of his drink, hand landing on Victor's knee as he tries to find a place to put his empty glass. "Where have you been all my life?"

"What soap opera did you get that line from?"

Without missing a beat, Victor says “ _All My Martians_.”

"I fucking love that show," is what Yuuri says, as the alcohol slip'n'slides through his blood stream.

"Maria, I love you even though you hate Vilaposian Flapjacks." Victor starts, quoting one of Yuuri's favorite episodes.

"Paulina, that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me." Yuuri fake sobs, giving his best impression of the actress' over dramatic wail.

"Marry me," Victor whispers.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh you know, from the episode in season seventeen where they got locked in a diner and Villiard proposed to Greg over the deep fryer." Victor laughs and rubs the back of his neck. There's a flush staining the high points of his cheekbones. His beer is still half full.

Yuuri sighs, leaning back in his seat, hand still on Victor's knee, "that _was_ a great episode, wasn't it?"

Victor places his hand over Yuuri's. "The best."

_______________

Phichit gets the Italians first. He's read the dossier on Sara and Michele (probably not their real names) and how Michele refuses to accept a mission without his sister.

"Looks like Ice Prince has made contact with Eros." Sara mutters to Michele over their supposedly secure ear pieces.

"Ice Prince? Eros?" Phichit mouths to himself. What the actual fuck?

Michele sighs, "figures Interpol would send in a honeypot to distract the Russians."

Oh my god. They think _Yuuri_ is the agent.

This might be the first time anyone's mistaken thirst for international espionage.

_______________

Victor notices Yuuri's empty glass and suggests they move to the bar. Their knees are pressed together, sitting on the same side of an otherwise empty booth. Most of the crowd is drunk enough to try and climb in the prop plane.

"Did you go to their panel in Los Angeles last month?"  

Yuuri had cosplayed Lucius, "I was there.We must have just missed one another."

Victor curls his arm around Yuuri's shoulder, "what a shame, we could have made contact a lot earlier."

_______________

"Keep an eye on them, we've got clear contact with the targets and we're not letting either Interpol or Russia get away with the software.” That's definitely Lee Seung Gil (probably a pseudonym) from South Korea. "They're clearly exchanging some kind of _code phrases_. They've been answering one another seamlessly, and they just mentioned making contact.”

Phichit can't believe he's going to owe the success of this operation to Yuuri's obsessions with Victor Nikiforov and _All My Martians._ No one covered this in basic training. He’s slid around the corner of the service hallway towards the empty offices that are only used during days when Tumblr’s employees can’t work from home. There’s an office towards the back where Ciao Ciao said the software should be— _would be_ —stashed. Phichit has to get there before the bridge agent makes the pick-up.

"What about Eros' friend? The one he came to the party with?" Phichit knows his cover should hold. He's more interested in the fact that Victor's got his lips all over Yuuri's neck.

The door to the office is locked, but it’s nothing Phichit can’t handle.

"Just some Instagramer, his info checked out."

Phichit fumbles with the digital pad. What amateurs. He recovers, punches in the correct code, and listens to the mechanism click into place.

_Just some Instagramer?_

Getting a selfie with Carly is basically guaranteed.

_______________

"We should find somewhere more...private," Yuuri's a little drunk, but he's sober enough to know that making out at the bar of a tech party is probably a bad idea. They should hop in the back seat of one of the vintage cars, at least.

Victors face is buried in the crook of his neck, continuing his path from Yuuri's jawline to his collar bone.

Yuuri manages to make out a muffled, "there's a conference room around the corner," when Victor breathes the words against his skin. "Let's go." Yuuri says, placing a kiss to the tip of Victor’s nose before pulling him out of the car.

Neither of them notice the tall, bleached blonde man watching them from the corner of the room, lips curled in a smirk.

_______________

"The targets are on the move. I repeat, the targets are on the move."

Phichit’s made a potentially fatal mistake—he's underestimated the strength of Yuuri's thirst. And how long it would take him to get into Victor Nikiforov's pants. He should have had more faith in his son.

"Michele, you're heading to the rendezvous point now, see if you can intercept the pass off before it happens."

Michele's not going to find the kind of rendezvous he’s expecting if he follows those two. Phichit slips the flash drive in his pocket and heads down the hallway. He has to save the world—and apparently Yuuri's sex life. He's adopting another hamster after this is over. His HOA can suck it.

_______________

Victor's sucking him off. His hands and mouth are everywhere. It's a blur of skin and motion.

"Yuuri," Victor's mouth isn't on his neck anymore and that's tragic. Yuuri whines as the cold air hits his skin.

"Please don't stop." Victor's lips are kiss-bitten and swollen; his hair's disheveled and bristles with static as Yuuri runs his hands through it again.

Victor traces a thumb over Yuuri's bottom lip. Yuuri flicks his tongue out to lick the tip of it.

"You're going to kill me."

_______________

"I'm going to kill you." Phichit got a knife in one hand and a crystal moose he stole from the CEO's desk as a souvenir in the other.

Michele's wielding a taser and a revolver. Phichit's _actually_ brought a knife to a gunfight. Guang-Hong and Leo are going to laugh at him when he brings the encryption software back to Interpol Headquarters.

Phichit's knife catches the sliver of light that's slipped through the open door. Michele looks between his gun and Phichit's knife, sneering, "I'd like to see you try."

_______________

"I'd like to see you try," Yuuri's catching his breath as Victor swipes the back of his hand across his mouth, "You really think you could make me come before you? I've been told I have amazing stamina."

Victor trails his hand down Yuuri's back, stopping just short of his ass.  For the moment. " Well, I guess we'll just have to test that."

_______________

"Don't test me." Phichit snarls, disarming Michele's gun, scattering the pieces,  and pinning Michele to the wall of the hallway.  "I don't grade on a curve."

The muffled sounds of Carly Rae's opening song filter through the walls. He ignores the sounds of what must be Victor and Yuuri fucking in a room a few doors down. They shared a wall in college. Phichit knows things.

"Who the hell are you?" Michele's eyes are wide with terror. _Oh look_ , Phichit thinks, _the idiot's getting the picture_.

(Maybe he'll finally leave his sister alone.)

"Your worst nightmare."

_______________

“Getting this dry cleaned this is going to be a nightmare." Yuuri winces at the stains on his suit; Victor's isn't much better.

They're mostly dressed after abandoning the party and absconding through the service entrance.  Victor plucks the jacket—soiled with come and lube—from Yuuri's hands and tosses it in the dumpster.  There are some things you don't want to put back on your body after you know where they've been. That jacket is one of them.

(It was worth it.)

"Can I drive you home?" Victor asks, hand on the small of Yuuri's back.

Yuuri smiles, "I'd like that."

_______________

Phichit smiles at his phone screen. His photo with Carly (she insisted, he'd never address royalty so casually otherwise) is flawless and his phone is blowing up with notifications.

Oh, Yuuri's calling. Phichit sprawls out on his plush bed and picks up the phone.

"You'll never believe what happened to me!" Yuuri blurts out.

"Oh?" Phichit has to cover his phone's microphone for a moment so Yuuri doesn't hear him laugh, "tell me _all_ about your wild night."

**Author's Note:**

> +the party theme is north by northwest because IRONIC  
> +thanks [counterheist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/counterheist/pseuds/counterheist) for starting this whole yuuri week marathon when we chatted about this idea. and yuuri not actually being a honeypot but everyone thinking he is.  
> +thanks to [dommi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji) for the last minute beta!  
> +i did actually research spy and hacking stuff but also artistic license and who has time for links when you're writing approx 2k a day
> 
> +mumble mumble i'm [katsukiyuuristrophyhusband on tumblr](http://katsukiyuuristrophyhusband.tumblr.com)


End file.
